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I'm sorry, I can't forget

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I'm Sorry, I can't forget

There’s nothing I want more right now than to be with you.

But I don’t think that can ever happen again

We’ve both said things

We’ve both burnt bridges

And I don’t know if they can be re-built this time.

Maybe I didn’t appreciate you until you were gone.

Maybe it does take this much to make you think

How much people mean.

I want to argue

That I ended it before, fast and quick so it didn’t drag on

That what you’ve done, slowly driving the blade deeper each day

Is worse.

But it’s not. They’re both the same.

You asked why I didn’t care this much before.

I did

I did.

But I couldn’t give you what you wanted, needed.

I could have—should have made the effort

But I didn’t want it to be an effort.

I wanted that sharp pain of separation, that warm flutter of return

That blissful knowing that nothing could be better.

But every time we were… something started

Creeping in.

That taint of knowing that it would end.

That you or I would have to go, and with it all those feelings.

Every time it was a gamble, when we’d have them again.

So I’d start to detach, little by little.

Get colder and colder, so that when it happened

It wouldn't be such a shock to feel you gone.

When you asked me, and I said

“I love you. But I don’t know if I’m in love with you still,”

It was true, I didn’t know. But that was my way of saying

Help me find out, don’t leave me wondering if I do

Or if I don’t.

You should know, it’s the things I love most

That I treat the worst. I hurt them, I tease them, I ignore them.

I push the limits until it snaps, and then I think I know

Ah, that’s how much they love me back.

It’s destructive and stupid, I know.

But how much of me ever made sense?

You’re trying to move on, I’m trying to move on


But not really.

Every time we talk, I can’t help but think

Of all those things he’ll do for you

That I once did instead

Of all those things you’ll do for him

That you once did for me.

You’re a cunt for moving on so quickly, and

The way you did, right in front of me

I’m a cunt for cutting you out.

And the truth is, I know you were just trying

To bury your feelings in something else

To take the edge off, take the pain away

But you should know by now, when I get hurt

I turn away. I cut things out.

I don’t let the pain keep coming.

You self-destruct and I lash out.

Yes, I wanted to upset you.

But I also wanted you to know

I still felt strongly enough to wish those punishments on you.

I wanted to upset you.

I wanted you to feel

Every ounce of what I was feeling

In my ignorance, my stupidity, I never thought

That you already had

For weeks.

I said I cut you out—

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right

—But I couldn’t keep seeing you with him

Not while I still felt such a longing for you

Not while all I thought about at night

Was that if you were here, we could make this all better

Not while I wanted to be the only one

To ever be for you.

I cut you out so I wouldn’t have to watch.

I thought maybe, I could cut the pain away

If only I went to the source.

I don’t let the pain keep coming.

But it does.

You’ve infected me to the point

That flights of fancy, Rings of thought,

Half-contemplated suicides

Creep into me at every hour.

I wanted a coma, so you’d feel bad

So you’d rush to me and I’d wake up for you.

But it didn’t come.

I’m too afraid of pills or blades, too afraid for jumping

And well… meditation didn’t do more than lead to naps.

I took to praying the other night

That you’d be happy, taken care of

Just as long as you were safe.

I wanted to be the better man and say

“As long as he’s happy this way”

But I’m not.

I’m not the better man, and I don’t want you happy that way

I want you to be happy my way, with me.

Your heart was never enough

I needed you as well.

You said that wasn’t helpful to you

And it’s not helpful to me

But I keep feeling it

Every day.

So until I stop,

I have to cut you out.

I don’t want to do it. I want to talk

And more. So much more.

Maybe someday you’ll forgive me

Although I realize, probably not.

And you’re right,

We’ve both said things

That can never now be forgot.

I’m sorry.

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  • 4 weeks later...
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I disagree with "A". Some things, like this poem, are more a stream of conscious. If Josiah would take the time to polish it, the emotional impact would be lessened.

I like this piece. The honesty and the almost clinical explanation of an extremely emotional event is at times under-stated with just enough anger to keep me reading. These types of poems are written usually for the sole benefit of the writer. It's a way to cope with the situation without resorting to violence. In a way, you could say that this poem was meant to be read by a single reader. I'm just glad that Josiah has decided to share it with us. I really like this one.

Jason R.

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Hey Jason!

It was never my meaning that the poem should be "polished"

in a conventional way. I did not want to give Josiah any

concrete advice as to how to make this work better both as

a personal poem and a piece of literature many (if not

most can identify with) because I did not want to influence

his natural writing style or talent too much, but my thoughts

generally have to do with accentuating the "rapturous" style

to an extreme, allowing the inner voices to take on several

emotional (and sometimes "irrational" voices/outbursts) as well as

(perhaps) removing some of the non-essential words/lines

which break up the beauty of the emotionality expressed.

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